


Shamrock My World

by eternal_fireworks



Category: Shameless (US)
Genre: Around Season 2, Dancing, M/M, ian is an irish dancer, okay
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-12
Updated: 2015-04-12
Packaged: 2018-03-22 13:10:36
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,297
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3730153
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/eternal_fireworks/pseuds/eternal_fireworks
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Ian sneaks off somewhere at the same time each week. Mickey wants to know where and why because if Ian is hooking up with someone else, there will be blood.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Shamrock My World

**Author's Note:**

> So I wrote this before the dreaded finale and before my laptop broke, thought some fluff was needed :(

Mickey never knew where he went, all he knew was that Ian could never work on a Thursday afternoon, and that every single time Mickey asked him what he was doing he’d always turn red as his hair and tell him he had ‘prior commitments’.

It wasn’t until later on in their… whatever it was between them, did Mickey start to feel a little bit uneasy. Was Gallagher hooking up with someone else? He hated to admit it but the idea didn’t please Mickey whatsoever.

‘Hey, Gallagher’ Mickey said, ‘can you take my shift on Thursday? Got shit to do’ It was a fucking freezing, boring Tuesday morning and Mickey was eating a snickers, flicking absentmindedly through porn magazines while Ian sat behind the counter serving customers.

‘What time?’ Ian asked, biting into an apple as the most recent customer shuffled out of the store.

‘Three till seven?’ Mickey said, trying not to notice the juice from the apple dripping down Ian’s chin. However Ian wiped it off, avoiding Mickey’s eye.

‘You know I can’t work Thursday evenings Mick…’ Mickey watched Ian closely, looking for a clue as to what Ian was thinking. He waited for the inevitable change of subject he knew was coming.

‘Why do you need your shift covered? What are you doing?’ There it was.

‘Why don’t you tell me what you do every Thursday huh?’ Mickey retorted, Ian was still avoiding his eye, rearranging the cigarette cartons above the counter. Again he went red, even redder than before, making Mickey smirk.

‘None of your business’ Ian said quietly before muttering ‘I’m going for a smoke’ walking towards the back of the shop and leaving Mickey alone in the store.

He stood still for a minute, wondering what the hell Ian could be doing that he was so shady about. Ian wasn’t a shy person, he took Mickey taking the piss out of him for anything with ease. Hell if he’d told Mickey outright that he would rather bang Carlisle Cullen than Edward then this secret meet up he goes to every Thursday must be _really_ fucking embarrassing.

Then it hit Mickey. Ian would rather bang Carlisle. Ian likes old dudes. Ian hooked up with that old geriatric viagroid Ned while Mickey was in juvie, he knew that for a fact, but Ian had always gone off the radar on a Thursday afternoon. Maybe they had always been hooking up, maybe that was their allotted time _for_ hooking up.

Mickey’s blood boiled at the thought. Obviously because of the fact that this meant fucking Ned liked fucking 15 year olds as well as 16. The age difference made Mickey want to puke. But he was also jealous, jealous that Ned as well as fucking Kash had hooked up with Ian before him, and that Ned was rich, and that he could provide for Ian what Mickey couldn’t, and the fact that Ian was _still_ hooking up with him, even though Mickey was out of juvie and that he still chose Ned over him on a fucking Thursday afternoon.

Mickey’s thoughts were interrupted by Ian re-entering the store and brushing past him to re-take his seat behind the counter.

‘Dude, are you okay?’ Ian said, waking Mickey from his reverie ‘you literally haven’t moved since I left’

‘I’m fucking fine, Christ’ Mickey said, mentally shaking himself and scowling at Ian. Ian raised his eyebrows and rolled his eyes, before turning to the door as a customer strode in.

It was decided, Mickey thought as he glowered at the customer, daring them to steal something, I’m following Gallagher on Thursday, and I’m going to punch Ned’s fucking face in.

***

Thursday rolled around and Mickey was having a smoke making his way to the Gallagher abode. He wore a pair of black jeans and a black hoodie in a half-assed attempt at wearing a disguise. This way if Ian saw him, wherever he was going he could make himself invisible.

He arrived at the house and backtracked a couple of houses, waiting for Ian to emerge from the house. What he didn’t count on was Ian coming out of the house in a green hoodie, blue jeans, a fucking huge backpack and on a fucking bicycle.

He was off in a flash of green and Mickey swore loudly, dropping his cigarette and looking around the street for something he could catch up to Gallagher with. His eyes landed on an abandoned skateboard propped against the wall of a side alley. He ran over to it, practically threw it on the ground, stepped on it, pushed off and was speeding down the road after Ian.

He was still in sight, if far off. Mickey could just see a flash of red hair at the end of each street he turned on to, indicating which way to turn.

Mickey followed Ian at a safe distance all the way to the North Side. By this time Mickey was freezing his balls of and was getting more and more pissed by the second. The route Ian was taking pretty much confirmed Mickey’s suspicions that it was indeed Ned that Ian was meeting. He swore when he nearly got run over for not concentrating on what he was doing.

However when he saw Ian finally slow down, dismounting the bike while it was still moving, it wasn’t outside a swanky North Side hotel, but a tall white building with the letters LCDS in large silver lettering on the side. He stepped off the skateboard across the road and saw Ian park his bike then practically sprint into the building, looking at his watch and visibly swearing before he made it inside.

Mickey frowned, crossed the street, put his skateboard next to Ian’s bike and looked up at the building the towered above him. Where the fuck was he?

He took one last look up and down the street before thinking ‘fuck it’ and pushing the revolving doors into the building.

***

Seriously now, where the fuck was he. He looked around a huge foyer and walked further into it, just to see Ian entering a lift. He waited for the doors to close then ran over to it (while trying to remain inconspicuous to the grumpy-looking receptionist). He watched the light indicating which floor the lift was going to, to see where the lift stopped and where Gallagher got off. There were only 5 floors but unfortunately for Mickey the lift stopped at every one.

‘Fucking hell you’ve gotta be kidding me’ Mickey said, earning a stern look from some chick also waiting for the elevator. Mickey was going to have to go through every floor to see which one Gallagher was on. The second lift to his right opened and he hopped in, along with the uptight chick from before and a guy who jumped in at the last second, wearing a hoodie and fucking leggings. Where the fuck was he.

Both people in the lift with him gave him strange looks as he crossed his arms while the lift made its steady ascent.

‘What the fuck are you looking at?’ he asked after 10 seconds of excruciating awkwardness.

‘Nothing!’ they both said quickly.

‘Yeah, that’s what I thought’ he said, giving them one last look before exiting the lift at floor one.

He was faced with a short corridor, lined with three doors on each side. He walked to the first one and peered through the window, and was met with the sight of lots of mini people in tutus and leotards absolutely everywhere. Mickey had never seen this many small children in one place at the same time ever. It kind of freaked him out, possibly due to the fact that he never went to nursery.

He walked over to the second door and saw much the same thing. Lots and lots of mini people doing ballet. Okay. This all made sense now. He was in a fucking dance studio.

***

Three floors later and he was looking through a door containing around twenty fifteen year olds, all dressed in sweats and tanks dancing to Or Nah by The Weeknd. Mickey hated to say it but he was definitely having fun. He’d seen every type of dance he could imagine, ballet on the first floor, tap and modern on the second, some weird interpretive shit on the third and now hip hop and break on the fourth. He’d kept his eyes peeled for Ian the whole time, but seeing as the floors went up, the age did too suggested Ian was on the fifth, and highest floor. And although Mickey had worked this out by the second floor he couldn’t help but visit each one.

When he’d seen his fill of the fourth floor he walked to the lift and proceeded to the final floor, where he knew he’d find Ian, his heart suddenly started beating a lot faster. He had no idea what to expect. Ian had never mentioned dancing, his liking for it or apparent skill for it. Maybe he wasn’t a dancer. Mickey knew Ian could play the piano, but he didn’t think it was at a level where Ian could play for a class. Maybe he was a janitor? Fuck, he had no idea. ‘Time to find out’ he thought, as the doors opened onto a corridor mirroring the ones on the other floors.

He walked to the first door, and looked in to see about 6 seventeen to eighteen year olds stretching on the floor. Ian wasn’t among them, but they were in tight leotards, one of them being the boy in the lift who had side-eyed Mickey.

He walked over to the next door to see eight girls in tutus on their tip toes. Or were they on their tip toes? It looked like it but at the same time it didn’t. He looked to the blackboard and saw the title ‘en pointe’. Whatever the fuck that meant. He looked over the girls again and saw the girl from the lift looking right at him. ‘Shit’ he thought and stepped sideways out of view.

It was then that he heard a laugh that sounded extremely familiar. He practically ran to the next door to see Ian looking fairly normal, in tight black trousers, a plain black shirt and… albeit weird shoes. They looked like normal shoes but with blocks on the soles. Ian was talking to a tall blonde girl in a green dress. She looked relatively normal also, in tights and the same shoes as Ian. Her and Ian were dressed almost identically to everyone else in the class. While trying to stay out of sight he got settled to watch the class.

‘Okay everyone’, the teacher said, in a thick Irish accent ‘let’s go through the whole thing.’ The class visibly groaned. ‘Come on guys, the recital is tonight! You can go after this one, I promise.’

Everyone shuffled around and got into their places, poised with their heads downward. Then the music started, and it was fucking weird.

All the dancers stayed perfectly still in total darkness, about twelve of them all in formation, while some weird ass chant played. It sounded something like ‘Dé Luain Dé Máirt, Dé Luain Dé Máirt, Dé Luain Dé Máirt Dé Céadaoin’ over and over again. Mickey stood waiting for Ian to move, then light filled the room, the actual music started, and the dancers began to move.

‘Oh no fucking way’ Mickey laughed, watching Ian and his comrades as they stepped forward and burst into an extremely elaborate, expert and fucking fast routine of honest-to-god Irish dancing. ‘I guess that explained why the teacher was Irish’ Mickey thought.

Suddenly Mickey regretted all the time he’d wasted watching the other dancers on the lower floors, because he could have happily stayed here and watched Ian stomp and jump around, crossing and uncrossing his legs at the fucking speed of light for any number of hours.

Mickey couldn’t keep his eyes off Ian, he seemed to have a permanent smirk on his face. Ian was moving so fast, the music was getting faster and faster and then suddenly Ian and all his fellow dancers were kicking their legs up higher than Mickey’s fucking head and he absolutely lost it.

He doubled over laughing, he’d never seen anything so funny in his life. Ian Gallagher, aspiring army officer, who could shoot a target’s bulls-eye from 50 feet away, who could easily kick Mickey’s ass if he wanted to (thought Mickey would never admit it), was alternatively kicking each leg up into the air and then continuing a seemingly impossible speed of dancing without batting an eyelid.

Mickey straightened up to see that Ian was having a little solo. He immediately stopped laughing. He watched Ian as he moved and was absolutely astonished at how fucking fast he was moving. His legs were a blur and Mickey was having trouble keeping up. Just as Mickey thought it would be impossible for him to move any faster the music sped up even more.

Mickey couldn’t help but admit it, this was kind of turning him on. The way Ian moved, the speed, the precision. It was all extremely sexy, and Mickey had always liked a guy who could dance. He did hide that poster of Justin Timberlake under his bed for four years after all. But now he had his own little ginger JT, just Irish dancing instead of body rolling. But looking at Ian now, Mickey knew that was perfectly alright with him.

Ian finished his solo with a flourish but then easily blended back into the group who were now all dancing at the same speed that Ian had demonstrated. They were so in sync, Mickey couldn’t understand how they were doing it.

Suddenly the music sped up one last time, and about 20 seconds of fucking insane dancing followed, it was so fast Mickey started to feel queasy watching it. There was a crescendo and then suddenly there was a stomp of 12 weird Irish dancing shoes on hardwood and the dance was over.

Mickey hadn’t even realised his jaw had dropped open. ‘Jesus I must look like such a fag right now’ he thought. He abruptly shut his jaw and listened to what the teacher was saying.

‘Claire, keep your head up, don’t slouch. Damon, remember poise and Ian, smile a bit more!’ Mickey looked at Ian as he laughed at the Irish’s comment. Mickey thought it was completely reasonable to forget to smile when you’re doing shit like that.

Mickey realised all the dancers were packing up, ready to leave, meaning he had to get out of there fast if he wanted to avoid Ian. He turned on the spot and waited for the lift to take him back down to the studio foyer.

***

However when Mickey got to the bottom floor and out into the chilly Chicago air, he hesitated. Maybe he wanted to see Ian, maybe he wanted him to know he was there. So he grabbed his skateboard, lit a smoke, fixed his hair in the window and waited casually against Ian’s bike for him to come out of the studio.

He didn’t have to wait long. It was only about three minutes until Ian emerged with the same girl he was talking to earlier.

‘See you next week, Claire!’ he said.

‘Yeah, see ya Ian’ She reached up on her tiptoes and gave Ian a kiss on the cheek. Mickey felt the jealousy rage within him. It was then that Ian turned around and saw Mickey waiting for him.

‘Oh shit’ Ian said, wide-eyed. He composed himself quickly, however. ‘Mick! What are you doing here…?’ He eyed Mickey nervously.

Mickey took his time answering.

‘Ah, nothing much. Figured if you weren’t going to tell me where you sneak off to I’d have to find out myself.’ Mickey grinned, taking a drag of his smoke.

‘Oh my god, you didn’t go in right? You didn’t see anything?’ Ian said in a rush, looking at Mickey with pleading eyes.

‘Never knew you could kick your leg that high Galla-‘

‘Oh holy fucking hell!’ Ian yelled, though it went almost unheard in the hustle and bustle of the Chicago street. He put his head in his hand and looked up at Mickey with the reddest face Mickey had ever seen.

‘Hey’ Mickey said, throwing his smoke on the ground and looking around before stepping closer to Ian, reaching out and taking Ian’s hand away from his face. ‘You didn’t have to be embarrassed to tell me or anything. You were so fucking good man’ Mickey looked at the floor as he admitted ‘it was actually kind of hot…’

When he looked back up Ian had a wide, shit-eating grin on his face. ‘huh? What was that tough guy?’ He grinned.

‘Shut your mouth’ Mickey replied with no real heat, stepping yet closer to Ian. ‘What do you have to say for yourself then?’

‘I have nothing to declare but my genius’ Ian said.

‘What's Oscar Wilde got to do with anything?’ Mickey said, laughing.

‘Um... Joyce said that.’ Ian said giving Mickey a smartass look.

‘Excuse you, I’ve read Ulysses twice and I can tell you, he most definitely did not say that, it was Oscar fuckin' Wilde. God i know more about your heritage than you do man’ Mickey said matter-of-factly.

‘Oh shut the fuck up you dick’ Ian said without any real heat. Mickey just shrugged and Ian was taken aback yet again by the amazing things he was lucky enough to find out about Mickey.

Ian groaned ‘Ugh this is still embarrassing as shit though oh my god’.

‘Hey’ Mickey said ‘How about I tell you one of my embarrassing secrets?’

Ian looked at Mickey and nodded.

‘Well… I can ice-skate’

‘What?!’ Ian exclaimed, laughing.

‘Yeah yeah, laugh it up asshole. I’m actually really good so go suck a dick.’

‘I just might’ Ian said, smirking at Mickey.

‘I’ll hold you to that’ Mickey muttered, looking around at the busy street, then leaning forward to give Ian the most chaste kiss he’d ever received in his life. It was enough for Ian though, who grinned so wide Mickey thought his face was going to split in half.

‘I actually thought that you were going to see Ned’ Mickey admitted, looking at the ground.

‘Ned? Is that why you followed me?’ Ian asked. ‘Oh my god were you jealous?’

‘Yes alright, alright’ Mickey spat, shocking Ian into silence. ‘I don’t want you fucking Ned, I don’t want you fucking Kash… I don’t want you fucking anyone but me, alright?’

‘Alright’ Ian muttered, smiling to himself when Mickey had turned around.

The boys mounted their respective means of transport and silently set off down the street, Mickey happily cruising beside Ian while he pedalled. Ian was so happy. Never in a million years did he think Mickey would make the effort to follow him all the way North, watch him dance, tell him not to be embarrassed about it, tell him one of his own secrets then admit he didn’t want Ian fucking anyone else. And this was just the first day of many in Ian’s life where he got to peel back the layers of this boy and see the sensitive caring man underneath.

Mickey grabbed onto Ian’s shoulder so he could be pulled along and whispered into Ian’s ear:

‘So do I get private shows and shit? Are you gonna shamrock my world?’ Mickey said, laughing as Ian shoved his hand of his shoulder and shouted ‘Fuck off!’ at Mickey behind him. Ian pedalled faster away form him, happy in the knowledge and certainty that Mickey was right behind him.

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> Based off an actual Irish dancer I saw whilst in Dublin on a school trip, with red hair and everything. He was v dreamy, shame he was 300% gay tho. The chant used at the beginning of Ian's dance are the days of the week in Gailic (well that's what we were told...). Shout out to R!


End file.
